In early December a chap from South Wales called Paul went on one of those adult weekends to Butlins, Bognor Regis with a bunch of mates. He got on really well with my truly lovely friend, Calamity Jane. However in a strange sequence of events they forgot to swap numbers. Apparently he owns a boat parked in Brixham harbour and has a flashy sports car that could involve the letters DB. Then again it might not. Jane's recollection is blurry. For like me, she is not a typical Essex girl and refuses to have her head turned by any old geezer with a nice set of wheels. We are much bloody deeper than that.
That whispering bloke hasn't worked his magic yet for me. Aside from a very youthful barman on the rebound who I persuaded to pull me a pint after hours there hasn't been a sniff of action in my own love life. Best go meddling in others then! If any of you knows his whereabouts can you get him to contact me? I swore a solemn promise that I'd find him. I know that my information is not much to go on but stranger things have happened!